


Thanks for the Venom, I Think

by heyyoungbleed (Dark_Moons)



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gerard runs a strip club, Half-Vampires, Interspecies Relationship(s), Laced Tattoos?, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Mentions of drugs/alcohol, Power Dynamics, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Vampire Mafia, Vampires, Vampires happen, Venom as a drug, Will add sex tags as they come, mafia, venom - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:14:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Moons/pseuds/heyyoungbleed
Summary: Gerard Way is a vampire running an interspecies strip club called the House of Wolves.  Frank Iero is a human just trying to get good-ass tattoos who runs an errand in exchange for free ink. The rest of the gang are just trying to keep the club and the family business in order. Family Business? So Gerard's like, the vampire godfather now? Goddamn, what has he gotten himself into?





	1. Hey Listen Man This Isn't Illegal Or Anything, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> hey, uh, i started writing this about a year ago for a big bang but lost steam. im BACK baby vampire mafia and all  
> this was born out of listening to "Vampire Money" one-too-many times and decided to take it literally. Title, obviously, from "Thanks For The Venom", also taken way too literally

     It's a small price to pay to see heaven through a devil’s serum.

* * *

  Frank Iero began his life as what his mother’s friends would call, A Really Good Boy. Cared for his mom, y’know? Always there in a pickle, always willing to help out with what needed to be done.

A Really Good, Really Human, boy.

Through his own preferences and decisions, the “really good” part was dropped by the time he reached his twenties. Not too many housewives openly approve of a queer punk — short, dyed black hair, stretched ears and tattoos. Goddamn tattoos started the whole thing.

The shop was older, darker, tucked away on a street that fell between the human and vampire parts of New York City. Despite its outwardly dingy appearance, it had a allure he couldn’t quite shake.

The sign was old, the door was rusted, yet the pumpkin in the window grinned invitingly. Painted black walls were mostly hidden behind posters, drawings, and pictures of past pieces, the floors clean white tile.

He didn’t ask the artist to show his teeth before he started. Most of his friends had been human growing up, but he’d known enough turned vampires (and even a couple true blooded) to be comfortable despite the species. Besides, the man’s victorian-style vest and white blousy shirt spoke for itself as Probably Not Human. Many older vamps leaned towards the styles they grew up in.

No point in being hemophobic without due cause. At least the shop was clean, the medical conditions seemed up-to-date, and latex gloves in no short supply.

Picking the design was the easy part. It practically called to him from the artist’s flash sheet: a jack-o-lantern, similar to the one glowing in the window of the shop. Black and white, simple, a flat rate well-within his budget. 

“A birthday present to myself,” Frank joked, smiling.

“How fitting,” The artist smiled back, four longer canines glowing faintly under the incandescent bulbs under clear blue eyes. Ah, so a turned vampire then. No matter.

Frank should’ve questioned why the tattoo was so cheap. He should’ve stopped to think why the needle felt so smooth. Why the ink over his skin seemed to fly. Lying on his stomach on the medical table, shirtless, the October chill felt like a distant memory for a time.

With each stroke of the needle, he could almost leave the room.

He’d heard about that before from his friends. A type of post-ink high, they said. Something to do with the adrenaline and pain bombarding your head with chemicals to make up for your brief suffering. Man, they _really_ downplayed the feeling. Pre- and post-orgasm sensations, hinting on the edges of his perception. He would’ve gotten his first ink here if he knew it would feel that… that… sexual, almost.

In a strange, beautiful, violent way.

The artist was good at what he did. For a small price, Frank could tell he received a quality piece. Twisting over his shoulder, he was surprised to see a looping script just above the pumpkin’s jagged grin.

“Keep the faith?”

The vampire glanced up from where he was preparing a plastic covering for the new ink. “Did I fuck up?” He grimaced. “I’m sorry, you’re one of my first clients this season. I’ve only been in business since, oh, August. I mean, there isn’t much I can do to cover it up, but, I could give you credit for a future purchase? Or some of your money back?”

Frank tensed, because, holy shit. “I mean, it’s not like this is going to be on my body, like, forever or anything.” 

He sighed and ultimately shrugged. “Unexpected, but I like the sound of it. Makes me feel like a old-time gangster, y’know?”

The artist laughed drily, awkwardly. “Quite.”

Frank sighed at the feeling of the plastic wrap against the raw skin, the edges of the tape slick under his shirt. “Besides, it goes with my Lady of Sorrows tattoo, in a way. All religious-y.”

* * *

The tattoo healed quicker than he expected — barely a week and the wound was closed and smooth. Yet, there was a burning ache under his skin. The memory of the needle was one of coveted euphoria.

Barely two weeks later, he couldn’t shake off the itch.

Barely two weeks later later, clutching a bottle, frosty November sidewalks brought his feet back to the same shop.

“S’mthin for my mother,” Frank slurred faintly, rubbing his shoulder, “I gotta get, s’mthin for, my mother.”

Behind the counter, the artist wrote something in his record book. It closed with a thunk. “Returning customers! Didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

He took the beer from Frank, sniffing it with a curled sneer of distaste. “Unfortunately, I don’t tat intoxicated customers. Come back tomorrow.”

Frank reached for it feebly as the vampire dropped the bottle in the trash, shaking his head stubbornly. “Nah, I’ve only had one or three.” He rubbed his shoulder again. “M’fine, I told her I’d get her somethin’ to show her I’m good for the family. You know family, mister, mister…”

He couldn’t remember the artist’s name from last time.

“Mr. Beckett.” The artist offered a hand to shake, nails perfectly manicured into white half-moon tips. “William Beckett. You never asked. Just Will’s fine.”

“Frank Iero”

“Family is everything, isn’t it, Mr. Iero?” Will smiled, showing his four canines again. Frank couldn’t help but fixate on the way Will’s tongue moved around his teeth. He was wearing the same vest. 

“Come back tomorrow morning, I think I can fit you in, somewhere.” 

Frank couldn’t look away from his mouth. “I don’t doubt it.”

* * *

The two bands wrapped around his left upper arm, proudly displaying the words: “Loyalty, Honesty, Respect” between them, separated by stars.

Head clear, Frank smoothed the plastic wrap, barely hidden by his black Misfits t-shirt. “How much do I owe you?”

“$350.” Will pulled off his blue latex gloves with a _snap_ , tossing them in the trash.

The price was greater than last time. Too great for Frank’s wallet. Interesting how a simpler tattoo ended up costing more. He blinked, dismayed.

“Well, uh, I only have a couple twenties on me at the moment,” His arm felt pleasantly warm and tingly, unaware of his predicament. “Do you want me to set up a payment system?”

Will eyed him carefully. “How’bout you and me come to an… Accord?”

Who the fuck uses the word _accord_ anymore. The victorian clothes began to make more sense.

Frank played with the hem of his shirt. “Ok, I know I’m pretty new around here, so do you mean like a monthly payment, or,” 

Will tapped a long, manicured nail against his lips. “No, don’t worry about the rest of the payment, it’s my time anyways. I need something delivered to an… Old friend of mine.” 

“Oh, yea, I can’t deliver drugs, so-“ 

“Oh, sweetheart, I’d never.” Will drew an X on his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Frank narrowed his eyes, thinking. Like that wasn’t suspicious. “As long as it isn’t, like, super illegal. Or, anything.”

“Or anything,” Will agreed.Lightly biting his thumbnail, he wheedled, “If you want, I’ll even throw in your next tat for free. If you _want_ another, that is.”

“Man, you know my poison.” Fuck, he was going to regret this. “What’re the deets?”

_Fuck_ , he was going to _regret_ this.

* * *

Compared to the glitzy sparkles and rich silks the patrons were wearing on the sidewalk, Frank felt severely out of place in a Fedex uniform, clutching a crisp cardboard package.

“Keeps the questions off,” Will had said. 

“Still sounds super fucking illegal,” Frank had said. 

_Questions, my ass._ Frank frowned. This was definitely one of the shadiest things he had ever done. 350 bucks said there was some sort of crazy drugs in the box. It would add up. _My mama didn’t raise me to be no drug runner_ .

The House of Wolves was one of the rare interspecies clubs in Manhattan, supposedly run by a well-off true blood, or something. Welcoming to both human and vampire customers and workers. Will insisted that the main hours were between 9 and 3 am, due to its mixed clientele. Don’t go too late though, cause, that’s when things “really start to heat up.”

Frank shivered, feet crunching through the brittle ice of what may have been a puddle during warmer months. He could use a little heat at the moment, to be honest.

He was grateful for the uniform’s long khaki pants to fight the chilly night air, sharp against his ears and nose. Frost curled around the metalwork decorating the black wooden door, an elegantly sculpted wolf snarled teeth and icicles from its center. Above it, a neon sign displaying the club’s name flickered a similar logo of the wolf, its mouth alternating between an open and closed design with a buzzing click. To a lazy eye, it could’ve been alive.

Raising his hand to knock, the door slid open before he could touch it. Slightly off balance, he stumbled into the main room, almost running headfirst into a bouncer. The curly-haired man neatly sidestepped, closing the door behind Frank.

On stage, a dark haired dancer in skimpy gold lingerie circled the pole, matching high-heeled boots clicking against the burnished metal stage to the beat of the bass. Blacklights caught the hollow of his throat, seeping into the curve of every muscle that rippled as he spun to suggestive lyrics. Behind patrons lounging in leather chairs, the DJ turned up the volume. Several shifted forward in their seats, one or two flagging down a server for a drink.

The man smacked his ass to the crowd, baring four sharp canines in a wanton smile.

Frank swallowed, barely able to tear his eyes from what was, undoubtedly, a Very Nice Ass. The music loud in his ears, the lights dazzling… Irregardless, he couldn’t shake the burning desire to return to the shop. To get inked again. To feel the needle —

Goddamn, he was beginning to sound like a druggie himself.

Goddamn, what had he gotten himself into.

“Ah, there you are! William said you’d be coming our way.” Frank jumped. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, the tall man connected to it leading him away from the scantily-dressed dancer currently crawling over to one particularly interested man in a sharp pinstripe suit.

“Holy shit… How big are you??” Brutally honest as ever, Frank had to stare straight up to meet a pair of piercing blue eyes. Most turned vampires lost their darker eye pigments. Until the invention of colored contacts, eye pigmentation was one of the easiest ways to tell between a turned and a sire. Black leather pants and a crisp white dress shirt certainly didn’t hurt the picture, rolled sleeves revealing tanned skin.

The man laughed, a faint accent warm on his tongue.”Not the first time I’ve been asked that. I’m 6 feet four inches. But for you, _querido lindo_ , I could add a few.”

“Uh.” Frank reddened, clutching the box to his chest, painfully aware that, hey! This is a strip club! With dancers! And sex! “Uh.”

Realization processing slowly, Frank stumbled as he was tugged off the main floor by the collar of his shirt. The man’s fingers brushed against the lettering inked into Frank’s upper back for an instant before dropping his shirt.

Grinning, the man fixed Frank’s shirt, still leading him away as if nothing had happened. “Keep the faith. An interesting tattoo you have there, my friend _.”_

The man’s palm slid to the small of his back, opening a door to their left with his free hand. He laughed. “I’m Gabe Saporta. But you can call me _Anytime_.”

“Alrighty, that’s enough flirting for one evening.” A hand shot through the door, dragging Frank in by the sleeve of the dumbass FedEx uniform.

_All these grabby hands and arms,_ he thought wryly, _No wonder people came to this place to get some._

The hand dusted him off, taking the almost-forgotten box with her other. Despite her glittery silver attire, a smart bob managed to give her a businesslike air. Her turned blue eyes were friendly, but sharp. She closed the door behind her, handing Frank a glass of clear liquid. Her stilettos sank into the luscious cream carpet, silent. “Victoria Asher. Don’t mind Gabe, he’s yet to learn how to think without his dick.”

Gabe pouted. “Vicky, _¡Andá! Me lastima que no confies en mi. No me rompas las pelotas, linda._ ”

Victoria— Vicky —ignored him, turning to the Very Confused, Very Out Of Place human in the room. She leaned against the desk, crossing her legs. “Beckett sent you, right?”

Frank nodded, slightly sheepish. He swirled his glass, tried to sniff its contents subtly, and failed entirely at going unnoticed. “Yeah, a simple exchange,” he said. “However, I gotta say, I don’t really know what’s in the box, so if it’s illegal, or.”

“I’m going to go with or here, sweetheart, but don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” She sipped from her glass, watching him steadily. 

He decided against drinking unknown fluids from a strip club. Smelled like champagne, looked like champagne, but. He didn’t want to risk getting roofied, no matter how nice the carpeting was.

Victoria stood up briskly. “No matter. I’ll give you the exchange package. I’m sure he payed you in full?”

“Well, uh, not exactly” She raised an eyebrow. Frank clarified. “We have an arrangement, an, um, an accord, he said he’d cover my next tattoo if I…”

_“¡Qué conveniente che!”_ Gabe laughed, running his long fingers up Frank’s neck, nails lightly tracing his jugular. Frank shuddered, unsure if he should be concerned or turned on, probably both. 

_“_ Vicky _, William ha enviado un virgen,”_ Gabe murmured, teasing Frank’s hairline. _“Qué bárbaro eres._ You gonna stick around, honey? _”_

Frank could feel himself baring his neck instinctively. Gabe’s fingers dipped lower, rubbing against the script at the top of Frank’s spine.

God, his fingers were like, like _…_ Despite himself, Frank felt his pants tighten a bit at whatever _that_ was. The vampire dragged a nail over the center of the tattoo.

Frank shuddered as a weak sound slipped out. Gabe’s pupils darkened.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ , I can’t take you anywhere.” Vicky rolled her eyes, plucking the glass from Frank’s slack grip before any of the liquid could stain the flooring. She placed it on the desk before grabbing Gabe by the arm. 

“If I wasn’t here it would be fangs and jizz everywhere, Jesus. Go help Brendon wash up, ya animal.” Bewildered, Frank only watched Gabe elegantly pluck the champagne from the desk before Victoria hustled him out of the room.

Gabe left, reluctantly, not before sticking his tongue out at Vicky with a childish _pbbt_ noise before he closed the door. She breathed through her nose.

Vicky sighed apologetically and sat down at the desk, pinching the bridge of her nose. _“_ He gets quite… handsy on the fresh meat, if you pardon the expression. No offense meant.”

Frank tensed.“Oh, uh, yeah. None, um, taken. Now the, uh, package?” Right. His reason for com— uh, _visiting_ , the club. He sat down at the chair opposite her, feeling _slightly_ more confident.“Yeah, the package?”

Something, anything, to get out of this, this _place_ and back into the Real World. One without tall, hot vampires, and fucking _Twilight_ undertones. Time to get out of this Team Edward hellhole. Well. Really nice. Hole. Holes. Probably. Oh God, if he blushed any more, Frank was gonna combust. His next tattoo better be the best goddamn tattoo he got in his _life_ .

God, what made his tattoo that sensitive? He suddenly hated vampires for their inability to blush. Fucking vampires. The wheels in his head spun for a moment. Now, _fucking_ vam… Nope. Nope, Not Going There.

“Here you are, all packaged and ready for transport!” Vicky said brightly, interrupting his inner monologue. She handed him a large padded envelope, carefully sealed with a wolf sticker.

“Thanks.” Frank took it gingerly, still reeling internally. “Love the logo.” Inside some sort of liquid sloshed. “Alcohol?” He asked.

“Mm, to some,” She replied, standing up and leading him to the door. “Long as it gets to Will in one piece, don’t worry about it too much. Whatever he does next with it is up to him, long as his packages keep coming. See you soon, Frank.”

“Well, I thank you for your, ah, kindness, but I really don’t plan on coming—”

She shut the door in his face with a loud click. Frank blinked, almost angry at her abruptness.

“…Back.”


	2. "Essay on the Existence of the Modern Vampire"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Required reading for the high school level

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to explain the existence of vampires  
>  main story continues next chapter

  Chapter 2, page 17, " _Essay on the Existence of the Modern Vampire"_ by B. Armstrong, T. Cool, and M. Dirnt

* * *

 

_ When vampires were “officially” discovered in 1960, most of the general public was already vaguely aware of their existence. Despite decades of fighting to remain anonymous, too many turned vampires had come rushing back to their families, too many with fangs, bites, and occasionally, bloodlust. _

_ They were only the first of the many victims that the true blooded vampires tried desperately to hide. _

_ The first of a new breed — unlike those born a vampire, true blooded, those who could trace their lineage through the centuries. But rather, halflings. Humans, bitten by a true blooded sire, infected with venom and condemned (or blessed) to an in-between life of being mostly-vampires. Vampires in almost all the sense of the word, other than the fact they were born human. And, unlike their sires, unable to reproduce. _

_      Some craved the experience. Unlike their true blooded counterparts, turned vampires lack the complete “vampire’s curse”. Their once-human skin merely burns in the sun; silver causes hives that could be dispersed with an Epi-pen similar to a peanut allergy. _

_ The benefits are unquestionable. For the cost of your humanity, you can become invulnerable. Invincible. Immune to almost all human diseases. Almost immortal. _

_ However, this crimson gift is not without its downsides. Unless properly restrained and fed for the first few days, a recently-turned human overcome with bloodlust can kill dozens. They never reproduce naturally. Human communities often reject turned vampires, fearing the implications (and risks) of their "condition." _

_ But hey, they can adopt. Make new friends. Move across town. _

_ By 1980, vampires were urged into living separate from the humans. Not total apartheid, but specific boroughs and streets of cities that happened to be darker than others. Free from prying human eyes. Darker, yes, but dirtier. More dangerous. _

_ Everything always goes to hell when the government gets involved, doesn’t it? I digress.  _

_ AIDs, a disease transferred largely through open bites in dark alleys, decimated the true blooded population. Those who avoided it claimed their birthright as the leaders of the turned vampires. _

_ Funnily enough, the turned vamps avoided the epidemic: their cocktail of venom and human blood regenerated itself too quickly for sickness to take hold. As their sires died off, their numbers stabilized. Gone were the aristocratic systems of the Middle Ages. Feared by humans for their teeth; the turned vampires kept quietly to themselves in gangs run by their pureblooded sire. _

_ Gangs, or rather, families. The true blood was usually the leader, as the original sire.  _

_ Disregarding the piercing pain of a bite, several humans discovered recreational uses for vampire venom. Following the pain was a blissful euphoria. Small amounts — not enough to turn — can be consumed or injected for a high stronger than anything other drug known to humanity.  _

_ Originally beneficial to immobilize prey or to keep a frequent-victim close, modern vampires acting under the orders of their sire sometimes sell vials of their own venom for a price. A few baggies filled with pills, white powder, amber fluid in a syringe. This was highly profitable until legislature was passed in 1995 to classify venom as a illicit substance among humans. Side effects include moderate mental control, insomnia, hypersensitivity, the possibility of empathic links, loss of appetite, confusion… _

* * *

The rest of the page is illegible, torn off perhaps in haste. Maybe there's a digital version online? 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i figured id have to involve green day in here somehow might as well start here


	3. Tattoo Safety 101: Always knock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He just, fuck, he just can't stop coming back for more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok from here on im gonna space out updates by a couple days but please comment + kudos if you wanna see more!! can't wait to hear your feedback :00

* * *

What the FUCK.

He was angry with himself for letting Gabe do… _whatever that was_ to him so easily. He should’ve been on his guard. He probably — no, definitely — just ran _drugs_ , for fucks sake! Public embarrassment was the _least_ of his worries. It wasn’t like the vampire had even done anything that risqué. 

Alone in his apartment, Frank barely resisted opening the envelope. Just barely. Regardless of whatever hours vampires kept, Frank couldn’t waltz around New York City at all hours. Did vampires even have to sleep? Did _he_ even have to sleep? To be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

He had a job to go to in the morning. Probably. Hopefully. Working as a technical mechanic wasn’t necessarily the best job he’d ever had, or the most stable profession, but, well, it payed the bills. His hands were often stained or scuffed from fighting with large speaker systems and amps but that wasn’t to say he wasn’t above the odd mechanic job. Most of the time, the bands let him watch the gig for free.NYC life was fucking expensive. He took what he could get.

Odds and ends make ends meet, my friend.

Sitting on his bed, Frank groaned, rubbing his eyes, and tossed the envelope onto the nearby nightstand. He groaned louder at the _thunk_ it made on the scarred table, realizing too late he probably should be more careful with… whatever it was. Hesitantly, he examined the edges of the package for leaks.

Seemed fine. He set it back down, carelessly brushing a pack of guitar strings onto the floor to make room. Whatever. He’d pick it up later. Yeah.

Stretching made his spine pop. Sighing contentedly, he placed a cigarette between his lips, lit it, and breathed the nicotine in gratefully. What a weird-ass night. He pulled the Fedex shirt over his head, chucked it at the hamper, and missed. Next the belt, khakis, socks. He’d wash it, hopefully, before he brought it back to Will tomorrow evening. To be polite. The man was giving him a free tattoo, notwithstanding the fact he’d added _words_ to his first tattoo without permission, and probably talked him into delivering whatever was in that box. 

Smoking on his bed, he couldn’t help but eye the new ink on his arm appreciatively. To the casual outside observer, it would seem tattoos were all he cared about. Other than dogs, New Jersey, and the odd Starbucks barista, they would be right.

He reached over his shoulder to touch the words on his back. Hm. No effect. Weird. For all intents and purposes, Gabe could’ve been jerking him off for all he could care. Felt the same, except… spoiler alert… he hadn’t touched Frank’s dick.

Experimentally, he cupped himself over his boxers before slipping a hand inside. Yup. Same feeling. Like the tall vampire grabbed his dick and prostate at the same time. Kneejerk gut reaction. Wild, to be honest. Maybe that was just perk that came along with the teeth and… aura.

Listen. Vampires had a fucking, _thing_ , about them. Some sort of predator-prey dynamic. They evolved to be attractive to humans. To attract their _food_. That fear-inducing powerplay shit. Will you eat me in, like, the fun, sexy way, or the actual, well, eating way. What kind of sucking is going to happen here. Blood?? Dick?? Is there gonna be necking, or, _necking?_ Both?? So many variables, so many double-meanings. So much uncertainty.

Come to think of it, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever slept with a vampire before. Not that he’d intentionally avoided it, but. It’s hard enough to find a single partner, who had similar interests as him, lived nearby, and, yeah, did he mention, was single. Interspecies dating was uncommon enough as it is, since, well. The human usually didn’t stay human too long after entering a serious relationship. Different life expectancies, dietary requirements, and all that.

Inhaling a last time, Frank stubbed out his cigarette in an ashtray on the nightstand. Standing up, he stretched again, stepping out of his boxers. He slouched to the bathroom, pointedly ignoring the clock blinking 3:30 AM under his lamp.

The shower’s heat was welcoming, familiar. He carefully rinsed his arm, hissing as the water hit the raw skin of the tattoo. Frank wished he could smack himself for being such a goddamn idiot in the strip club earlier and so goddamn _gullible._

What kind of idiot runs _unknown drugs_ for _vampires_ without even asking what was in the boxes? It could’ve been, like, fucking heroin or something. Last thing he needed would be to get caught dressed in a fake uniform transporting hard drugs. “But, officer, I am just a simple state employee delivering this package! Pay no heed to the handsy, toothy stripper behind the curtain.”

Yeah, like that would fly.

And on top of that, every goddamn vampire he met seemed to hold some sort of interest in him. I mean, yeah, _technically_ he was a walking bloodbag, but in the back of his mind, a vain little part of him whispered dark speculations.

Given the surroundings of the club, it was most probable that they were hoping he would stay to buy something. Someone. That’s probably why they acted… Like that. He squeezed color-safe shampoo into one hand, working the rich lather into his hair.

_William ha enviado un virgen._

And also, what the _fuck_ was with that whole interaction in general. Frank’s Spanish wasn’t the best, but unless he was severely mistaken, he wasn’t a virgin like Gabe was claiming. Ok, so, he wasn’t going steady with anyone at the moment, or, like, ever, but he was 25 years old, and he’d been to college. He’d danced the dance before.

Maybe the whole. Never danced with a vampire before. Could they tell? Man, his health class was _severely_ lacking in interspecies sex ed. Well, to be honest, it was severely lacking in human sex ed too.

To be honest, he… couldn’t really complain too much. His hand wandered back to his dick again. I mean. Have you seen Gabe Saporta. That man is goddamn _fine_. The music, the outfits, the vampire’s overly touchy nature. His goddamn _fingers_. Oh _god_ , what those fingers were probably capable of. Frank’s breath stuttered as he sped up, biting his fist.

_Qué bárbaro eres._

How wonderful you are.

He bit his fist harder, groaning softly. Praise from a guy like that, in bed, well. How wonderful. How beautiful. You’re doing so well, _querido_. Oh God, a guy that tall could tear him into mewling, needy pieces. The sheer strength difference alone between a human and vampire… He had to lean against the shower wall, crying out softly as he came.

Frank raised his hand, watching dispassionately as the shower’s steady stream washed away the come and soap bubbles. 

* * *

He almost, almost forgot to bring the stupid Fedex uniform with him. Even after he’d cleaned it, too.

William was ecstatic to see the envelope. With the same care Vicky had shown, he lifted off the House of Wolves sticker and slid out a transparent flask of deep burgundy liquid. Unscrewing the cap, he sniffed it and grinned. “Just what the doctor ordered. I’ll make a runner of you yet, boy. You’ve done The Academy a great favor.”

Ah, yes. The Academy. So that was the name of the shop.

Frank ran a hand through his hair, remembering Gabe’s fingers. “Fuck. I mean, man, this was definitely a one-time thing. One more tattoo, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“We’ll see, my friend. We’ll see.” Will closed the flask, tucking it safely into the inner breast pocket of his vest. “Now, what can I design for you? We can schedule your larger piece for Wednesday. Wouldn’t want you to have too many fresh tats at the same time.”

“True point.” Frank sighed, crestfallen. A few weeks. So long to wait. The odd experience in the House of Wolves would be worth it, in exchange for the caress of the needle. He practically tingled with anticipation.

* * *

A “few weeks” translated to one. By the last couple days, Frank was pacing his apartment in frantic restlessness. The wait was taking too long. His former tattoo had healed, strangely, within _24 hours_. Even faster than the first time. He only had to wait another hour for the next. He needed, he needed…

He barely noticed leaving the apartment, only just remembering to put on a coat and hat to fight the first snow flurries of November. It would’ve been wiser to take a taxi to the shop, but the process would take too long.

5:30 PM and the tattoo parlor was dimly lit on the outside. The sign in the window guaranteed it to be open, yet, William was out of sight. Perhaps he was just finishing up with a different customer.

The bell above the door rang as it swung open and shut, quietly announcing Frank’s entrance. He rushed to the desk, rubbing his hands to return the feeling to his chilled fingers. “Will?”

Poking his head around the corner, Frank called out again. “Mr. Beckett?”

He dared to step into the back room where the tattoo chair and table were. His eyes widened. The only part of the artist Frank could see was his legs wrapped around the man’s waist before he froze. 

That was _Gabe_. With Will, on the chair. And they were. They were. Oh man. They were a lot _closer_ than Frank would’ve guessed. Small world, isn’t it. At least they were _clothed_ .

“Did you hear someone?” Will’s voice, husked.

“Oh, yes,” Gabe purred. Delicately, he nosed Will’s neck, running his tongue up the side. There was a wet popping sound, like biting into a peach. He must’ve bitten him. “Your faithful client is just outside.” Another swipe of his tongue sealed the bite. Even from the other room, Frank could hear his breath hitch. 

Frank swallowed. He turned to leave, wincing when the tile creaked under his foot. 

“Do come out, _querido_ ,” Gabe laughed. “Don’t you have an appointment?”

Reluctantly, guiltily, Frank stepped fully into the room, looking anywhere but at the chair. This was the most awkward he had ever felt in his _life._

Will smiled brightly, completely unruffled. “What a good time for you to come.”

He stood up, cool-as-you-please, ripping off a paper towel to dry the small teeth marks on the side of his neck that were bleeding sluggishly. He threw it out, put on a hello kitty bandaid, and washed his hands before putting on black latex gloves. 

Frank couldn’t decide what was more out-of-place: the bandaid, or, just, the entire experience in general. As if he hadn’t just _walked in on them._

Will beamed, gesturing to the chair. “Gabe, darling, please fetch him.”

“Wait, I can, _hold up—”_ Frank tried to back up, flailing uselessly as the much taller man picked him up like he weighed nothing. “ _Wait_ , this is _highly—_ ”

Ignoring his protests, Gabe deposited him on the empty chair, lifting up the base of his shirt and pressing it into Frank’s hands. “Hold, _por fav_ ,” 

Frank pushed it back down. “Dude, what the _fuck_ ,” he spluttered, entire face crimson.

Gabe beamed. Frank gulped. There was blood on his teeth. “S’where you’re getting your new artwork from William, _no_?”

Frank stilled, eyes looking anywhere than his face. “Yeah. I guess, yeah, but I mean, I can, um, do this myself.”

“I suppose you can.” Gabe laughed quietly. He tutted at the red stains he found on his collar as he rebuttoned the top of his shirt, pulling out a tide stick. “I will see you later.” Pecking Will on the cheek, he left, rubbing at his shirt. The door tinkled behind him.

“Alright,” Will clapped his hands, tucking his longish hair behind his ears. “Time to get stenciled!”

“Mm,” Frank agreed. “Listen, man, I’m sorry about—”

The artist didn’t look up from the drawings he was rifling through. “If we didn’t want you to see, Mr. Iero, we wouldn’t have let you come in, now would we?”

That. That is actually true. “Ah. I’ll, uhm, keep that in mind.”

“Found them! These are going to be beauties, Mr. Iero.” William held up matching stencils of two swallows, one for each hip. “You’re gonna have to unzip your jeans a bit.”

Frank flushed. “Uh.”

“Unless, you want them higher up?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Think pure thoughts, brain, Jesus. Obviously.

William brushed Frank’s shirt back up, fingertips warm as they touched against his skin.

Frank swallowed, again. This was going to be a longer session. Getting his skin prepped was rough enough— washing and then shaving matching patches, drying it carefully.

The first touch of the needle burned with a deepset… Ache. He quickly breathed through his nose. Ache. That was the best way to describe it. Goddamn, what the _fuck_ was with these _fucking_ tattoos?

None of his friends had ever described the process as, well _orgasmic_. That was the _only_ way to describe it. He struggled to remain still, caught between wanting the pleasure-pain or wanting to ignore it. God, since when was he such a masochist? He would _not_ get off on a fucking tattoo while in the artist’s shop. 

The tattoo gun whirred, clicking on and off as William dipped it in ink, wiped Frank’s skin with paper towels, resumed work, wiped, dipped it again. Each pass of the towels seemed to sink through his hips, increasing the sensation. Dipped, wiped, resumed, wiped, dipped… Frank shoved the back of his wrist in his mouth, determined to prevent any sound from slipping out.

William paused. “How’re you doing?”

The reply was a muffled, hurried _“Mmdoinfine.”_

“If you’re sure.” The vampire resumed, outlining the wings of the right swallow. “If you need a break, I’ve got snacks, drinks.” His eyes flicked down to Frank’s crotch, then back up again, “Condoms,”

“Man, I, _hnng_ , I have _no_ idea what’s going on,” Frank gasped. He tried to swallow the sound, failed, shuddered. God, he’d never live this down. Will chuckled.

“If you thought you were the first guy to pop one while under the needle, you’d be wrong.” He said. “Especially _where_ you’re getting it done, Mr. Iero. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Frank made a noise of agreement. “Thanks. You can call me, ah, F-Frank.”

“Sounds good, Frank. Might as well drop the formalities.”

The needle buzzed, starting on the left side. Frank gripped the armrests, pressing his head back into the chair. Oh man.

* * *

Will took off the gloves with a _snap_ , tossed them in the trash, and fixed the edges the plastic wrap on Frank’s stomach so that it was securely edged with medical tape.

“Man, the quality holds up as usual,” Frank said, admiringly, over the weird sensations from the actual tattooing process.

“Why thank you, Frank,” Will emphasized the _k._ “Before you leave, can I ask a favor once more?”

Frank glanced at the clock. 9:50. The night was still young. “Sure, what can I do for you?”

“Well.” The artist retrieved a familiar-looking box from behind the counter. “Care to return to the House?”

Oh no.

“I’m not wearing that uniform again,” Frank said, hesitantly. “If that’s ok.” He could barely look away from the hello kitty bandaid innocently perched on the artist’s neck.

“No need, darling,” Will’s fangs glittered in a Cheshire Cat smile.

* * *

The club was just as packed as last time. The bouncer, nodded at him as he passed, pointing him to the same lefthand door. His nametag said _Ray,_ with a little smiley face drawn next to it. What a guy. 

Frank knocked.

_“Querido!_ Just the man of the hour. The boss will be along here any moment.” Bright as ever, Gabe pulled the shorter man into the room; his hand was strangely warm, soft in Frank’s.

Was good nails a vampire thing? Frank figured it would be insensitive to ask so, but. He couldn’t help but be curious.

“The boss?” He asked, allowing Gabe to lead him to a leather chair that faced the desk.

Gabe sat him down, hands on his shoulders. “Oh, yes. He appreciates your willingness to help the family, my friend.”

“Wait, what fam—“ Frank’s voice died off as Gabe’s hands tensed on his shoulders. The door opened with an ironically coffin-like sound straight out of _Dracula_. He would’ve laughed, if he wasn’t suddenly scared shitless. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my guys i have so many bad vampire puns just waiting to be released im so sorry in advance  
> ps. get ready to meet Mr. Way


	4. I'm Gonna Make Him An Offer He Can't Refuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You come into my house, on the day my daughter is to be married,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just watched "what we do in the shadows" and let me tell you it was precious and i loved it so if you watch it please come talk to me about it on tumblr @ heyyoungbleed :00 thank you for the feedback and drop a comment if you like what you read!

The tan carpet swallowed the sound of all footsteps behind him, as if the pale man melted out of the very shadow creeping up from behind the door. Frank drew a shuddering breath. It was like all the heat had suddenly left the room 

* * *

“Hello, Mr. Iero,” 

The voice was cool, unfeeling. And yet, while he spoke softly, there was something unsettling that Frank couldn’t quite place. “We have much to discuss, you and I. My name is Gerard Way.” 

Mr. Way patted Gabe’s cheek. “Gabriel, if you could give us a moment, please.” 

Frank could feel Gabe’s hands tense on his shoulders for a moment. Gabe let go and stepped back. He dipped his head in a respectful bow and closed the door behind him. 

Frank fiddled with the armrests of the chair, not wanting to meet the new man’s intense gaze. Hazel eyes. A true blooded vampire, then. 

“I trust William has been good to you?” 

Frank swallowed, a sick feeling building in his stomach. Apparently Gabe wasn't the only one familiar with Mr. Beckett. “I'm afraid I don't understand, Mr. Way.” 

“My friend is known for his… Special pieces. You've received a few of them, if I'm not mistaken.” Mr. Way sat in the office chair behind the desk, leaned back, and placed his shiny black dress shoes on the table. Frank could see him fiddle with his red tie, the only bit of color in the man’s black ensemble. “I trust you've noticed their effects.”

Frank touched his hip. He could feel his ears burn pink. 

Mr. Way smiled. “So you have. Aside from the pleasant sensations you felt while receiving them, there are other, hm, benefits. Tell me, in the past couple weeks, how many times have you been sick?”

“I…” Fuck, “I haven’t,” Frank said distantly. 

He hadn’t even noticed. Usually he’d be complaining of some new cold or flu seemingly every other day. _Especially_ in November. He’d been healthy. Strong, even. The tattoos healed rapidly as well. Frank hadn’t so much as _sneezed_ since Halloween. 

Mr. Way smiled wider, four sharp teeth now on display. “I have given you a _gift_ , Frank Iero. You see, I have… _enhanced_ William’s pieces.” 

Frank leaned forward. “Are you telling me he _drugged_ the ink?You can’t, you can’t _do_ shit like that! There are, like, laws, against—” 

“You will mind how you speak to me,” Mr. Way continued, softly, leaving the threat unspoken. 

Frank clenched the armrests and shut his mouth quickly 

“Drugged is such a _crude_ term,” the vampire sighed, “But… I suppose that will do for the moment. But please, do not worry yourself. You will find the family is _above_ the law, so to speak, Mr. Iero.” Mr. Way cocked his head too one side. “And we don’t take kindly to our… Gifts… Being received without gratitude.” 

The hair on the back of Frank’s neck stood up. “Ok, ok, I’m.” He paused, treading carefully, “I won’t say I’m _un-_ grateful for not coughing up a lung every two seconds, but I also _was_ tattooed with laced ink not once but _multiple_ times. If you guys have been drugging me, what were you using? Heroin? Cocaine? LSD?” 

“No human drug you’ve ever heard of, as far as I know.” Mr. Way examined his pristine black nails. “You’ve been given some of my blood, Mr. Iero. My venom, to be exact.” 

“Your… Venom…” Frank repeated. The room went from chilly to fucking _freezing._ For all he knew, someone may as well have dumped a bucket of ice water on his head. He could see his breath. “But wouldn’t that also make me like, uh…” 

He trailed off, leaving the obvious unspoken. 

“Oh, don’t worry yourself,” Gerard laughed, breath invisible. “You’re in no danger of turning into one of us. Merely… Linked to me, and the family. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water ofthe womb, Frankie.” 

Frank twitched at the nickname, rubbing his hands together in a vain effort to regain some heat. “The _family_. What is this, the _Godfather_? Last I checked—” 

“Last _I_ checked, you’ve already met some of the family and delivered some gifts for me. You’ve been seen entering and leaving my… _Establishment_ twice now. These are dangerous times, Mr. Iero. Last I checked, you have _our_ words on your back.” 

“Now hold up,” Frank started. “I didn’t even _want_ those, he even said he did it on a whim—” 

“That’s interesting,” Mr. Way took his feet off the table and leaned forward. “William always had, ah, _excellent_ _taste_. May I see it?” 

Frank leaned back. “Uh, well, there kinda isn’t a, uh, easy way for you to see it, without, me, uh,” Frank gestured to his shirt. “And besides, forgive me if I’m uncomfortable with, um, turning my back on you.” 

Mr. Way stood up, waving him off. “What is a family with out some trust between friends?” 

Frank pressed further back into the chair. “Yes, well, _families_ don’t often drug each other, first of all, and _secondly_ I’m not even part of whatever is going on here, so friends is a bit of a stretch, honestly, so I just have to—“ 

“On the contrary, you’ll find we’re quite close” 

Mr. Way stepped easily around the table and picked Frank up by the collar of his shirt as if he was no heavier than a china doll. Frank’s toes brushed the carpet. 

“Dude! What the _fuck_ you seriously are a mountain of,” Frank flailed for a moment, spluttering, “You’re a _mountain_ bad signals right now if you could fuc—please— just _put me down??”_

“I apologize” Gerard set him down only to turn him around effortlessly. The vampire slid a hand under the collar of Frank’s shirt. “Indulge me for a moment, if you please.” 

Frank gulped. “Ok, ok, see, I understand the whole, super-vampire-strength thing, but, wow, stranger danger! Stranger dangehh _hhaaahn_.” Mortified, Frank slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle whatever the _fuck_ that noise just was, Gerard’s palm firmly covering the jack-o-lantern etched onto his back. 

Experimentally, the vampire drew something over Frank’s skin. Frank arched into the touch, every stroke _burning,_ biting into his palm to keep from crying out. Mr. Way rubbed the place in slow swirls, seeming to marvel as Frank unraveled so quickly under his fingertips. Belatedly, Frank realized the vampire was drawing the letter _G_ over and over. 

This was _nothing_ like when Gabe had touched the lettering. This was. This was _way_ stronger. His back felt like it was on _fire_. It felt so, so, he could _cry_ it felt so… His knees buckled; Gerard’s other arm shot out to catch him around his waist. 

“Okay, too much, I’ll remember that. I’m sincerely sorry for the… overstimulation, Mr. Iero.” The vampire carefully sat Frank down on the desk. “Next time, I’ll—” 

“ _Next time?_ ” Frank breathed quickly through his nose, gripping the wood beneath him and willing himself back to normalcy. He pulled at his shirt, fixing the collar where it had been pulled down. “Man, I don’t know what the _fuck_ that was but it felt like, like, oh man, _don’t_ turn a guy on like that without warning and then just, well…” 

“Just what, Mr. Iero?” Whoa, vampire close to his face. Okay so like maybe he was super hot in a super That Is Super Bad News type of way, but if this was going to be a string of bad decisions leading to a cliché young adult novel, Frank would rather go into this as a Buffy rather than a Bella for a moment. 

“Just, um, um,” Frank’s eyes flicked between the vampire’s and the vampire’s very interesting, very dangerous, mouth. He leaned back, nowhere to go but further back on the desk. 

Absently, he noticed Mr. Way fit very nicely between his legs. 

Gerard leaned in, his breath warm against Frank’s neck. “Do go on, Mr. Iero.” 

One hand crept up under his shirt again, dangerously close to the wingtips of one swallow. The other trailed along his thigh, skirting around Frank’s very obvious erection through his jeans. 

Frank’s swallowed. _Sharp_ teeth, close to his neck. “Uh, uh, I mean, Mr. Way, I think we’ve got to uh, exchange numbers or, _fuck_ , uh, I dunno, carrier— a _aah_ —carrier pigeons, because this is currently _very much_ a _no biting zone_ ,” 

The vampire sucked delicately under Frank’s ear, swiping the spot with his tongue. He popped the button of Frank’s jeans, slipping his fingers inside. Frank could feel teeth just grazing his jugular. 

“Aa _aahhng_ , ok, ok, backup,” Frank pushed Mr. Way’s chest, babbling. Mr. Way rubbed him through his boxers, teeth lightly grazing his neck. “No teeth, no teeth, besides, I really should be—,” 

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Way purred, “I never bite without permission. When I do, I’m sure you’ll be _begging_ for it—” 

Frank hissed at that _image_ , God, the idea, shaking, begging Mr. Way — Gerard — to just lean in and—

“God is my _only_ purpose in this club to keep Frank’s honor intact? Jesus!” Vicky opened the door with a loud _bang_ , startling Gerard away from Frank like a scared cat. She threw up her hands, exasperated. 

“Talk to him, you said! Only five minutes, you said! Gerard Way, I was gone for five minutes! Five! Apparently that’s all you needed until there’s fangs and, and, _dicks_ flying everywhere, jeez!” 

Gerard stepped smoothly in front of Frank, as if the human wasn’t basically laying across his own desk with his fly undone. “I was in complete control of the situation, Victoria. Really, no need.” 

Frank blinked owlishly, dazed.

She crossed her arms. “Yeah. Ok. _Real_ convincing. Please tell me you at least told him about his job _before_ you started hypnotizing him?” 

“ _Hypnotizing?!_ ” Frank sat up pushed past Mr. Way. The vampire huffed, offended. Frank zipped up his fly, his face practically on _fire_. “And, with all due respect, I’m gonna pass on whatever offer you have for me for… Personal safety concerns.” 

“I know Gerard started moving a, ahem, a bit too soon,” She began, 

“Excuse me, I merely—” Gerard butt in, defensively. 

“But you haven’t heard the details,” She continued, ignoring him. “Good pay, you get almost unrestricted access to the House, and you get to be our head sound and technical equipment mechanic. Oh, and full benefits too. We can even throw in room and board if you need it.” 

Oh yes, that really was a package. But. As far as Frank was concerned, this whole nonsense could go to hell. Thanks, but, he’d literally just been rescued all deus ex machina from Count Dracula’s stare, so. He’d like to keep his neck _intact_ and free of _unwanted piercings,_ thanks.

Oh, to be blissfully unaware again. Honey, you’ve got a big storm coming. 

“While I understand the, uh, _generosity_ of your offer, I think I’ve had enough… Benefits for one night. Thanks anyway, though.” Frank shifted from foot to foot, searching for an opportunity to leave. 

Vicky watched him sympathetically. “That’s fair. If you need anything, here’s our card. Contact us if you want it.” 

He took it. “Mm. Yes. I’ll keep it close to me.” He was going to burn that card as soon as he got home.

* * *

 

Mr. Way insisted on walking him to the entrance, hand lightly on Frank’s lower back the whole way through the club. The pole dancer waved coyly as they passed, dressed in a lace dressing gown. Frank looked away just as the dancer dropped the gown to reveal pink hot pants and stilettos. 

Gerard nodded to the bouncer as they passed through the door, leaving the heavy bass in favor of the suffocating quiet of winter just outside. 

Gerard folded his hands behind his back. “I enjoyed our, hm, chat. I hope you will pardon my impulsiveness. Believe me when I say I usually put more import on keeping _boundaries_ than I did earlier. I seek your pardon, though I suspect I may have acted unforgivably. I usually pride myself on my _restraint._ ” 

Frank didn’t meet his eyes. “…Yeah. I hope— I mean, um, thank you?” 

Mr. Way nodded, his breath invisible despite the freezing air. “Until next time, Mr. Iero.” 

“Yeah,” Frank said, lying through his teeth. “Next time.” 

He waved half-heartedly and hurried away from the club and its flickering sign. Just before he turned the corner, he glanced over his shoulder. 

The vampire was watching him from outside the club, leaning against the iron door. Frank was too far away to know for sure, but… He could still feel eyes burning on his back. 

Keep the Faith. Frank pulled his jacket tighter around himself and shivered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pole dancer was dancing to woman by kesha bc i just heard it and its a bomb-ass song  
> ps. next chapter will mostly be new content instead of my prewritten stuff, so there's probably going to be a slightly longer wait than before


End file.
